I could punch a hole
into this wall
if I wanted to
and watch my
hand bruise itself
red and black
with my veins
turning conspicuous
and me bruising them
over and over.
I could rip apart
all my clothes
especially the ones
that reek of me,
I wouldn't want to linger
on anyone
or anything.
I'm watching myself
suffuse into insanity,
one trigger
and I'll coil away.
YOU ARE READING
the blue and the solace
Poetrya poetry, thoughts and an excerpts collection. - #8 in poetry - #2 in poem